


However Short A Time

by Janatee



Series: Barneswald [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Doctor Who, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Clara Echo, Connie!Clara, F/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-17 08:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2302433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janatee/pseuds/Janatee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of Clara’s echoes meets Steve and Bucky in 1942. In Bucky’s quest to pair her with Steve the three become fast friends. They work through a lot together: beliefs, fears, and flaws, but soon Bucky begins to realize that Steve’s not the one falling for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Pow!_

A mighty fist sunk into Steve’s abdomen, and pain splintered through his entire body. He staggered backwards, determined not to keel over.

“I’m still standing; what are you waiting for?” he said, with more bravado than he felt. His aggressor, a delinquent named Oscar, punched him again, and Steve stumbled into a park bench. Nearby, mothers shooed their children away, keeping a safe distance.

“You’re going to have to do better than that,” Steve said, righting himself. In a few short seconds, Steve had been wrestled into a headlock, at Oscar’s mercy.

“Why don’t you say that again, punk?” he growled.

“I said, you’re going to have to do better than that,” said Steve.

 

 _I just signed my own death warrant,_ he thought, and tried to keep his breathing under control, waiting for the pain that was sure to come.

_Crack!_

Blood poured out of Steve’s nose, and Oscar’s fist rushed at his face again.

_Crunch!_

Pain layered upon pain, and blackness started to creep into the edges of his vision. Steve held on to his consciousness. _Come on,_ he thought, _don’t give him the satisfaction._

 

“Hey!” shouted a voice. Steve tried to turn his head, but Oscar’s grip held.

“Yeah, you,” the voice said again, “The fat-head with your arms around that man’s neck.”

“Scram, lady,” said Oscar. _Lady?_ Steve thought. He could hardly tell which way was up anymore, and had to strain to understand what he was hearing. It could have been a woman, but he really had other-

 

There was a bit of a commotion, and suddenly the pressure on Steve’s neck was gone. He stumbled backwards, taking in a huge gulp of air. The back of his legs hit the park bench, and he collapsed onto it. His hand found the armrest and gripped it tightly.

“Listen, he heard Oscar say, “I’m not gonna hit a girl, but if you don’t-”

_Hsssssss_

“Augh!”

Steve was trying to sort out the sounds as his vision slowly returned. He could hear shouting, see three people: Oscar, the mystery woman, and a blurry figure running towards them.  

 

Steve felt a tug on his arm.  
“Come on, you have to get out of here.” It was the woman. He stood up as quickly as he could, and turned to see Oscar clutching his eyes and screaming.

“No time to linger,” she said, “That won’t last for long, and he’ll be even angrier in a minute. You’ve got to go!” She pulled on his arm again, dragging him off the bench. He was gone, nearly spent; there was no way he could keep up. He was going to have to stick it out.

“You go ahead,” he said, “I think I-”

 

Steve heard a cry and whirled around to see Bucky standing over Oscar, who had crumpled to the ground.

“Steve,” Bucky said, “Steve, you alright?”

 

The woman stepped aside as Bucky ran to put his arms around Steve. Steve let his legs buckle, hanging on to Bucky with all the strength he had left.

“Man, what’d you say to him?” Bucky said, checking Steve’s injuries, “He broke your nose. Again.”

“I was waiting him out,” Steve wheezed, “It makes for a more dramatic comeback.”

“Sorry to steal your thunder,” said Bucky, “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course you are,” he said, then turned to the woman.

“What’d you hit him with?”

“Perfume,” she replied warily.

“Perfume,” repeated Bucky. He smiled the way he did when he was holding back a laugh, “Well, it certainly did the trick. Thanks.”

“It was a pleasure,” she said, “That numbskull probably needed a knock on the head.”

Oscar let out a moan from the ground

“And that’s our cue to leave,” Bucky said. The woman raised her eyebrow.

“I don’t think so. Do you know how to realign a broken nose?”

“That’s not really your-”

“So you don’t, then.”

Bucky hesitated, than took a look at Steve. “Well…not really, but-”

“Then I’m going with you,” she said firmly. She turned to Steve, “Do you feel okay walking?”

Steve nodded, leaning on Bucky for support.

“Let’s go then,” she said.

Steve and Bucky exchanged glances. This was the longest a woman had even looked at Steve, let alone talk to him. Now she’d insisted on spending time with him, which was unheard of. Steve could already see the matchmaking wheels turning in Bucky’s mind; he always got that look when he was up to something.

“Okay,” Bucky said, “Let’s go.”

_________

 

Bucky could tell that Steve was in no condition to walk, so he draped his arm around him, propping him up. He did his best to make them look like two friends walking together. This lady was still talking to Steve after seeing him get pummeled to bits, but Bucky wasn’t taking any chances. This whole thing was improbable enough.

 

“What’d you say to make him so mad?” the woman asked Steve.

“He was picking on some kids,” replied Steve, “I told him to leave them alone.”

“Hitting them?” asked Bucky. 

Steve winced. “No. He heard their dad was drafted, and thought it’d be fun to scare them with war stories.”

“That’s awful,” said the woman.

“Yeah,” replied Steve, “He was being a real jerk.”

“So did you hit him or did he hit you?”

“Well, he got the first punch in, and I didn’t want, er-I guess I just…” Steve trailed off and Bucky butted in.

 

“You know, I never caught your name,” he said.

“Sorry! I’m Clara Oswin,” she replied, “You can call me Connie.”

They all made their introductions, and she went right back to the subject.

“Is chasing down bullies just a normal day for you two, then?”

“Not really,” said Steve, “People tend to start throwing punches when they disagree with someone, and I figure standing up to them is better than running.”

Connie looked at Steve with admiration, and Bucky nearly had to pinch himself. This was a miracle. A nice girl, decently pretty, who saw Steve for the great guy that he was. Even a nice match for his height, if that counted for anything.

 

“The guy had no respect for men who fight,” continued Steve, mostly to himself, “And he was terrorizing those poor kids. Running away isn’t a good way to stop people like that.”

“Neither is getting pummeled,” Connie said, “But I see your point.”

She seemed to sense that Steve was uncomfortable again, so she changed the subject.

 

“What were you doing there in the first place?”

“Reading.”

“What book?”

“Murder at the Vicarage.”

“Really? That one’s so good! I love Agatha Christie.”

“See?” Bucky said, giving Steve a look. “Steve thinks all my mystery books are boring,” he said to Connie, “but I finally convinced him to read this one.”

“Well done,” Connie said. Then, to Steve, “How do you like it so far?”

“I’m not very far yet.”

“That means you’ve still read some,” she said, smiling. Steve didn’t bite.

“I’m holding off judgment until I’m finished,” he said.  

“Aw, come on,” she said, gently elbowing Steve, “Spoil-sport. I know you’ll love it, though. This funny old spinster ends up figure everything out on her own, and it’s so _clever_ you’ll just think it’s grand.”

“See, you gotta stick with it for a while,” added Bucky to Steve, “Once everything starts coming together, it goes fast.”

“Exactly,” said Connie, “But what sort of books _do_ you like?” she asked Steve.

 

Steve hesitated, but Connie was waiting for him to answer.

“I liked the Hobbit,” he said, “It’s got suspense and adventure. It shows what a difference a little guy can make when he starts to be brave. You understand the appeal,” he added, smiling.

“That’s a wonderful book,” she said, “All of the places they go, fighting spiders, wolves, and trolls, traveling across Middle Earth.”

“Yeah, if you’re okay traveling with thirteen dwarves,” chimed in Bucky, and Connie laughed. He liked her. He’d talked with her for all of ten minutes, but he did. He liked that she listened to Steve. He liked that she didn’t say anything about Steve getting beat up or Bucky saving him, that she was looking after Steve without making him a pity case. He liked the way she wasn’t trying to impress anybody or make the conversation about herself. She was perfect for Steve. Bucky wasn’t about to let a chance like this go by.


	2. Chapter 2

            Connie acted extra natural, pretending not to notice as Bucky dragged Steve along. She smiled, she laughed, and she pushed the conversation ever forward, doing her best to keep their spirits up as they struggled down the street.

_____

 

            Bucky lead them both into a tiny house and carefully steered Steve to the couch. A threadbare rug rested on the hardwood floor. A corner cabinet and two small mismatched side tables were the only other objects in the room.

“Hello?” Bucky shouted. Silence.

“They’re not home yet,” he said to Connie, “I’ll get ice ready. Can you look at him?”

Connie nodded, and Bucky went off into the kitchen.

 

Steve looked so bad that she didn’t know where to start. His nose was bent far out of shape, his face, hands, and clothes were covered with blood, and his eyes focused several feet behind her, like he was about to faint.

“Are you feeling alright?” she asked. He nodded.

“Just a little roughed up,” he said, “It looks worse than it is.”

_I can’t tell if you’re stubborn or just insane,_ she thought, but she kept her comments to herself. She walked to a nearby cupboard and peeked inside.

“Do you know where Bucky keeps the first aid kit?” she said.

Steve motioned to a side table, and she hurried over.

 

            She tried not to gasp when she opened the lid. The case was nearly empty. What few supplies were left were hopelessly mismatched, clearly augmented over the years. A scattered array of bandages all had different sizes and medicine’s expiration dates varied over a frightening range.

 

For the first time that day, she realized how utterly out of her element she was. She _nannied_ , for heavens sake; she wasn’t Superman. Defending Steve had been mostly a reflex, but now that she had gone this far, she couldn’t help feeling like a total intruder. They had a system, Bucky and Steve. She butted in, and now she was standing uselessly in the middle of someone else’s house without a clue what to do.

 

_Come on,_ she thought, _you volunteered to help_ , _so help!_

 

“Alright,” she said, in her most assured voice, “We should clean up the blood to assess the damage. Uh…hang on just a minute.” She grabbed a cloth from the first aid kit and walked into the kitchen.

 

Bucky hunched over the counter, tying together two corners of cloth to form a makeshift ice pack.

“Bucky?” she said.

“Yes?”

“Can you get Steve to a washroom? It’s hard to get a good look with all of the blood.”

 “Er…yeah, sure,” he said. He kept fiddling with the knot, looking as if he was about to say something, then decided not to. Connie turned to leave when he spoke up.

 

“Listen,” he said, “He may not look it, but Steve’s a fighter.”

 “Clearly,” she said, “That’s how he got into this mess.”

“No, not like that,” he said, quickly, “I mean even when he needs it, he doesn’t like people helping him. He’s a good kid. But he’s stubborn as hell.”

“Will do,” she said.

“And Connie?”

“Yes?”

“Steve’s a good guy,” he said, “Consider yourself lucky to get this close to him.”

Connie thought she detected a hint of sadness.

“I do,” she replied.

____

 

Steve looked even worse without the blood. Several bruises had formed on his neck, and he his lip had split pretty badly. Stitches badly. _Oh well._

 

He left his shirt to soak and put on one of Bucky’s. It hung loose around his tiny frame.   _Not like I needed more help looking small,_ he thought wryly. But he walked out of the washroom with his chin up.

 

“Hey,” he said to Connie, as brightly as he could. He pointed to his lip. “Might need stitches on this one.”

She nodded, and he sat on the couch. Thought Bucky was quite capable of giving Steve stitches, he seemed to have mysteriously disappeared.

 

 “Thank you,” he said, once she was finished, then took a deep breath. He needed to talk to her before things got out of hand.  “Uh, about-er, Bucky…He probably thinks we should-”

“Have children?”

“I was going to say go steady, but you get the idea. He means well with, uh, this,” he said, motioning between the two of them, “But that’s not-I mean-not that you’re not beautiful, but I’m not exactly…comfortable. Not that you make me uncomfortable, you’re actually one of the nicest people I’ve met, and definitely the nicest girl-not that it makes a difference, I just haven’t met a lot of girls, but-uh, I’m trying to say that-”

“Not a problem,” she said, thankfully cutting him off, “I absolutely agree.”

 

            Steve breathed a sign of relief.

“Thanks,” he said, “He means well.”

“I know.”

An awkward silence ensued, and Steve had an overwhelming desire to change the subject.

“Where’d you learn to stich up a wound?” he said.

“I want to be an army nurse someday,” she replied, “Training here and there when I can.”

“Me too,” he said, “Well, a soldier, not a nurse. Maybe I’ll see you out there.”

“Maybe you will.”

 

            They sat in silence again, this time comfortable rather than awkward. A few minutes later, Bucky came in with a cloth full of ice. He tossed it at Steve, who barely caught it, sending a few loose ice cubes skittering across the floor. Steve held the ice up to his face. The pressure shot a sharp pain from his nose, but after a few seconds, the cold set in, sending cool tingles through his nerve endings where the pain used to be.

“We gotta go soon,” Bucky said to Connie, “Care to come back tomorrow and look at Steve’s lips again?” Steve ignored the look Bucky shot at him. Connie looked like she was about to burst out laughing, so she turned away.

“You’ve got to be joking,” she mouthed to Steve when Bucky could no longer see her face. Steve bit down on an ice cube and tried not to laugh.

“Sure,” she said, turning back to Bucky, “Wouldn’t want those gems to go to waste.”

Steve nearly spat out the cube.


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky kicked over the brick by the fence, picked up the key underneath it, and opened the door.

“Steve?!” he yelled, “It’s Bucky.”

Steve sat on the couch, a book in his hand. The walls of the tiny apartment were covered in sketches, fluttering gently.

“Hey,” he said, not looking up.

“Hi,” said Bucky, “Hey, listen. I invited that Connie gal over here. I thought she could ah…take a look at your injuries.” Bucky watched Steve’s face carefully. “Might be nice having a nurse around to take care of you,” he added, “Maybe you could go on a date, repay her for her help.”

Steve looked at him warily. “You told her where I live?”

Bucky laughed nervously and scratched the back of his neck, “Uh, yeah. I figured…I figured it might be better for you not to walk as far.”

 _This whole nurse business is going to be a harder sell than I thought,_ Bucky mused.

 

Just then, a knock came at the door. Steve’s eyes went wide, and he sprang off the couch, sprinting towards the walls.

“What are you doing?” hissed Bucky. Steve started tearing drawings off the wall.

“I’m taking down the nude sketches, you imbecile. Do you know how uncomfortable it’s going to be if she walks in here right now?”

“Right. I’ll distract her,” Bucky said. He headed toward the door, and turned the handle.

 

“Hey, love,” he chirped automatically. _Whoops. Maybe don’t go for that angle next time_.

Connie raised an eyebrow.

“Were you expecting someone else?” she said.

“Uh, no,” he replied, flustered, “Force of habit.”

“Mmm,” she said with a smirk.

Bucky tried to hunch his shoulders a bit and kept his arms obediently at his sides. No shoulder touches or offering her his arm.

 

He heard the rustling of papers stop.

“I think it’s time to look at your patient,” he said.

“Hello,” said Steve, who had inconspicuously returned to the couch, “Thanks for coming.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. Steve was going to have to do a lot better than that to court this dame.

 

***

 

 _I’m best friends with a total idiot,_ thought Steve, _The smooth talker can barely keep from flirting with the dame he’s setting me up with._ The last time a nurse had shown interest in Bucky, he’d teased her about it relentlessly. Steve had stayed away from them for days. Given Connie’s reaction to Bucky’s greeting, he wouldn’t be trying that one again.

 

Steve motioned to the couch.

“Sit down, please,” he said. She did. “Thanks for coming,” he continued, “I owe you.”

“Got a few good punches into that halfwit, didn’t you?” she replied, “That’s payment enough for me.”

Steve could see Buck smiling like an idiot in the background, and promptly ignored him, giving Connie a look that plainly said “sorry about my friend.”

Her back was to Bucky, so she mouthed “smooth.”

Steve chuckled.

“Let’s have a look,” she said.

 

***

 

“Turn your head,” she said, and she gently inspected Steve’s injuries. They certainly didn’t look like fun, but they weren’t infected or otherwise life threatening. She winced as she notices noticed bruises and lines of old scars marring his skin. He was struggling to breathe, too. She could probably diagnose him with a handful of serious medical conditions if she wanted to.

 

 _It’s a miracle this man wakes up every day, let alone takes as many punches as he does,_ she thought. But there was no good to be done in mentioning it, and he seemed to be surviving okay.

“You’re going to be fine,” she said, “But it was good to have me look at it. Um-” Connie stopped. She didn’t quite know what to do now. She couldn’t claim friendship with these two, but leaving now didn’t quite seem proper.

“Well,” Bucky said, sauntering over, “Thanks for looking after Steve. He could probably use a good nurse every once in a while.”

 

He was trying so hard. It probably physically pained him to watch Steve not take the bait. But at the moment, she had few friends, and these two seemed like good company, even if it meant enduring the occasional comment from Bucky.

“Happy to help,” she said.

“Good!” said Bucky quickly, “Very good. I though Steve and I could thank you by taking you to some afternoon ice cream. There’s a gal I know who’s a secretary at the war bonds office. She could join us.”

Connie looked at Steve, then back at Bucky. Now they were wandering into some painfully false pretenses, and she should really-

“I’d love that,” she said.


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky went to the next room to use the telephone while Connie used the washroom. Steve sat on the couch, sinking down slightly and leaving a dent in the middle cushion. Connie’s presence had started to make Steve a little uncomfortable. The apartment was his space – his and Bucky’s anyway – and, kind as Connie was, Steve felt self-conscious and entirely unsure of how to treat a woman in his home. Letting her use a bathroom that was covered in his own blood was probably not the best first impression.

He heard Bucky hang up the phone just as Connie returned. A second later, Bucky came back as well. There was an awkward silence, which Steve quickly broke.

“You two okay with heading out now?” he ventured.

“Right-o” Bucky replied, not waiting for Connie to answer. He turned around, swung open the door and plodded down the stairs, the metal mesh clanging as he went. Steve and Connie just stayed put, watching him go.

“Come on,” Bucky shouted, turning around, “Let’s get moving!”

***

 _Take the girl’s arm already,_ Bucky thought, _can’t you take a hint?_ Both Steve and Connie were frozen in place, with just their heads moving as they watched Bucky’s noisy descent. Steve looked a bit lost for a moment, but he stood up and offered his arm to Connie. The pair followed Bucky down the stairs.

Bucky relaxed. _This is good._ Connie and Steve were getting along reasonably well - miraculously well, considering Steve’s atrocious history. A girl had once faked a heart attack to get out of a blind date with him. Women didn’t exactly flock to Steve, a fact that wasn’t helped by Steve’s ridiculously old-fashioned attitude. But if Steve was bent on holding out for the perfect woman, it certainly couldn’t hurt for Bucky to speed the process along. And Connie was a damn gold mine: sharp, kind, caring, and witty enough to keep Steve on his toes.

Once the pair had safely reached the bottom of the stairs, Bucky jumped right into conversation, hoping to get the two talking again.

“So,” he said to Connie, “You looked like you knew what you were doing back there. You a nurse?”

“Not yet,” she replied, “But I’m training.”

“Are you gonna join the army?” piped up Steve.

“If that’s where I’m needed.”

“Good,” said Steve, nodding, “They need people like that, to take care of the men risking their lives. This guy’s set to go any day now,” he said, elbowing Bucky.

Bucky’s heart dropped a little.

“Oh!” said Connie, “Where are you stationed?”

“Don’t know yet,” Bucky replied. He stared forward, watching a group of children playing baseball in a picket-fenced lawn. A little brunette boy hit the ball with a solid ‘thunk’ and he ran, laughing, towards an overturned bucket that served as first base.

“He’ll do good wherever they put him,” said Steve, nodding in agreement with himself.

Steve talking about the war usually went nowhere good for him. Bucky opened his mouth to change the subject, but Connie beat him to the punch.

“Where are we picking up this girl of yours?” she asked Bucky.

“She’s right on Court Street. Just a few more blocks,” he said. As the conversation turned to safer channels, Steve started smiling again and even let his arm slip down to hold Connie’s hand. Steve’s newfound ease made Bucky relax too, so the group was in high spirits by the time they reached their destination.

***

Bucky rapped smartly on the door for 302.

“James!” a woman cried, flinging open the door, “How lovely to get your call!”

“Oh, you tease! You knew it was coming,” said Bucky. Connie watched him transform in front of her eyes. He somehow managed to wink without winking and made himself taller, instantly evoking a practiced charm, all cock-eyed smile and sultry voice. And Connie could see why. The girl was a bombshell: gorgeous blonde curls, perfect little bow lips, and an hourglass figure that belonged in the pictures. Bucky took her hand and kissed it. She smiled, and smoothed out her plaid dress, pausing to fix a sash tied around her impressively small waist. Connie stood up a little taller.

“Patricia, this is Connie and my best friend, Steve,” said Bucky.

“Connie,” Patricia said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Your skirt is just darling! Really brings out your eyes.”

“Thank you,” Connie replied.

Patricia gave Steve a quick once-over, her eyes lingering on his rolled-up pants and too-big jacket. “You, too, Steve. The pleasure, not the skirt. Oh, I’m rather mixed up today aren’t I!” She giggled.

Bucky chuckled and held out his arm; Patricia took it, and they were off. Bucky lead the way through the streets of picket-fenced neighborhoods. He waved good-naturedly to a woman working in her vegetable garden and called greetings to the kids eating popsicles on their front porch. Connie and Steve followed in silence.

They finally reached Prospect Park, a pleasant grassy area with a few scattered trees and benches near where Connie stood. Children ran in between streetlamps and fire hydrants while their parents or older siblings sat reading on picnic blankets. A few vendors were strategically stationed among the park-goers, selling comic books, newspapers, and all sorts of food.

“What flavor do you want, doll?” Bucky said to Patricia, and motioned to an ice cream stand that bore the name “Smith’s Ice Cream” in neat letters across the front.

“Whatever you’re having, Sarge,” she giggled.

The vendor was a pleasant man, a smiley, scraggly guy in dire need of a haircut who sported an outfit more suited to a professor than a vendor. He suggested ice cream flavors with great enthusiasm, babbling on about the perfect topping combinations for each one. He even gave them all an extra scoop, humming merrily to himself as he did so.

Meanwhile, Patricia talked happily on, arm in arm with Bucky, jumping from the lasted Sherlock Holmes radio show to the new brand of shampoo at Martin’s. Their group approached a bench near a group of friends walking their dogs together. Connie sat down on one end, and Bucky and Patricia joined her.

Connie hadn’t noticed how small the bench was until she saw Steve shuffling over to lean on a tree. Connie sprung to her feet. Heart conditions, bad spine structure, and flat feet made standing for long periods of time very uncomfortable, and she was not about to let him suffer on her behalf. She motioned toward the space on the bench.

Patricia rolled her eyes.

“Come on,” she said, “He can be a gentleman and let you sit.”

“No problem, sweetheart,” said Bucky hurriedly, “I can stand.”

He got up and Patricia wrinkled her nose.

“What’s wrong with him standing?” she said, “Yeah, the kid’s skinny, but the wind won’t blow him away.” She laughed a little at her own joke.

“It’s not a big deal,” said Bucky, “Don’t worry about it; he’s just got some health trouble. It’s better for him to sit down for a while.”

Patricia scoffed and looked at Steve.

“You’ll be fine where you are; won’t you?”  
“Yeah,” Steve replied, looking at Bucky and shaking his head as if to say _let it go,_ “I’m swell.”

“See?” Patricia said to Bucky, “I told you. He says he’s fine.” Bucky stood anyway.

“Come on; don’t be a hero. I could hear you coughing on the way over.” Steve’s cheeks turned pink and he sat down, staring at his newspaper-stuffed shoes. Patricia let out an elongated sigh.

“This is what happens when you don’t know your place – you end up relying on nice men like James,” Patricia said to Steve, “You have to realize at some point that you can’t just go on looking to other people to help bear your burden. If everyone had that same attitude, the world would be in shambles!” She saw Connie shaking her head, and turned to her, “Invalids are just less helpful than normal people; it’s a fact. Piece of advice from me to you,” she continued, “Don’t ever marry someone like that. If you marry him, you can’t have kids, you know. You’ll just make life hard for then and everyone else.” She laughed a little. “Not that you’d _actually_ -”

“Stop,” said Bucky.

“Stop what?”

“Talking about Steve like that.”

All of Bucky’s previous charm had dropped. Bucky’s eyes were cold and he spoke slowly, deliberately.

“What way?” she retorted, “It’s not personal or anything, It’s just-”

“Patricia,” he said, “If you don’t want to be in company with Steve, you won’t be in company with me.”

“Oh, please, James. It’s very nice of you to stand up for your friend, but you have to recognize the facts in front of you. It’s just the way the world works.”

“I’m serious,” he said, stepping towards her “You don’t like it, then leave.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, “It’s not like I –”

“Get out!” screamed Bucky, hands were balled into fists at his sides.

“Well, I never!” she said, getting up and brushing off her skirt, “And you seemed like such a charming young man. Good _bye_!”

Bucky glared at Patricia as she flounced away. _That was terrifying,_ thought Connie. She admired his standing up for his friend, sure, but there was a something unnerving about his sudden rage. He stood there watching Patricia go while Steve just looked at his shoes. Connie got the feeling that neither of them had wanted her to witness that. She finally glanced back at Bucky, who mumbled something about getting more napkins and shuffled away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been a year and a half since I've posted in this story...sorry about that! I just found my notebooks that have everything in them. I have the first draft written (maybe 10k-20k words? not sure) so now it's just a question of transcribing and editing everything. This should be posted more consistently now! 
> 
> (Also, you can see the places they visit in this chapter in 1940snewyork.com, which is pretty cool. There's also a tiny cameo in this chapter...)


	5. Chapter 5

Connie waited through a few seconds of silence, absentmindedly dragging the toe of her shoe back and forth across the grass.

“Does that happen a lot?” she finally asked.

“Yeah,” sighed Steve, looking away, “People tend to talk about me like I’m a problem, which I am. It’s a lot less fun to be me than it might seem, despite my wit and raging good looks,” he said without smiling.

“I was actually asking about Bucky,” she said, “But jeepers, that sounds awful.”

“Oh, right, of course,” he said, blushing. “He’s a great guy, and he means well, but he can go overboard sometimes,” he shrugged, “It’s okay.”

“I get the feeling it’s not,” said Connie. Steve shrugged again, and slumped forward, letting his bangs fall in his face.

“It makes him feel better,” said Steve.

“But..?” she prodded. Steve said nothing, and Connie began to think she’d crossed a line. But, to her relief, he kept going.

“It’s - it’s not great. He just tries so hard, but I can’t do anything to make it worth him sticking up for me. I’m not strong or handsome or anything. I can draw, I guess, but that’s not really getting me anywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“No need to apologize,” he replied, sitting back up and brushing back his hair, “It’s got nothing to do with you. Probably good that you know, though. He’s pretty much made it his personal mission for you to spend as much time with me as possible, so odds are you’re going to see him explode again eventually.”

He looked down at the ground, biting down at his pale lower lip. Connie saw Bucky walking back towards them, holding a ball of crumpled napkins in his hand. As soon as he saw Steve and Connie talking, he ducked behind a tree. Steve laughed, and Connie smiled.

“Do you think we should tell him we know?” she whispered conspirationally.

“Nah, he feels better thinking he’s helping,” said Steve. He chuckled, then leaned back farther, crossing his arms behind his head.

“Anyways,” he added, “It’s probably good for him.”

“Come again?” she said and Steve laughed.

“By ‘it’ I mostly mean you. I think you know how to care about people without smothering them.”

“And I think you’re trying to make me feel better.”

“Maybe I am.”

Connie hid a smile, and scooped some ice cream into her mouth. The vendor was right. Chocolate ice cream with graham cracker crumbs was just perfect. She looked around to see if Bucky had appeared; he hadn’t. She imagined him standing behind the tree trying to eavesdrop, his ear extending outward like in the cartoons.

“Are most of Bucky’s girls like Patricia?” she asked, before she could stop herself. She quickly covered her mouth.

“I – I mean –”

“I know,” said Steve, “Sometimes rude, but always beautiful? That’s guaranteed. Buck’s very much a ladies man,” he laughed, “I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

Connie let out a relieved giggle. “Yes, I certainly did,” she said, “He’s got to be the biggest flirt I’ve ever seen.”

She squared her shoulders and raised her eyebrow suggestively.

“Right this way, doll,” she said, doing her best to mimic his voice, “Tonight, I’m the luckiest man in town.” Steve burst out laughing.

***

Talking to Connie put Bucky’s outburst behind Steve, and he found himself enjoying her presence.

“That is uncanny,” he said, “If I could learn to do that, I’d have dames flocking left and right.”

He cleared his throat.

“Hello there,” he said, in as deep a voice as he could muster. They both burst into giggles before he could say more and Bucky chose that moment to emerge from behind the tree.

“What’re you two laughing about?” he said.

“Oh, we were just admiring your way with women,” said Connie, “Steve figures if he can get the voice down, he’ll get a date easy.”

“Is that so?” said Bucky, looking towards Steve with a smile, “Let’s hear it!”

“Hear what? This is my natural voice,” replied Steve in the most ridiculously husky voice he could manage. Bucky laughed so hard he had to grab Connie’s shoulder to steady himself.

“Dang! Where’d you learn that?” asked Bucky.

“You’ll be surprised what you can do with practice. I’ve got my Mickey Mouse impression down pat,” Steve replied.

“I bet I can do Minnie loads better,” said Connie mischievously.

“Oh, it’s on,” said Steve.

The next few minutes were spent trying to talk in as high-pitched a voice as humanly possible, peals of laughter following each attempt. When Bucky chimed in with Donald Duck, Connie nearly fell of the bench, she was laughing so hard. Steve’s whole chest hurt, in a good sort of way at first, but then things took a turn.

As he laughed and laughed, his breath hitched and he could feel his chest tightening. _Oh no. Not now._ The pressure kept building; Bucky and Connie started to fade away, and Steve started to feel light-headed as panic began to set in. He tried to focus on breathing, whooping and coughing and trying to suck as much air into his lungs as possible. He could vaguely sense his friends gathering around him and asking him questions, but he could barely see and the weight on his chest was getting heavier and heavier. Steve reached out to grab Bucky, tried to breathe, to do anything to make it stop, to get his head back on straight.

***

 _Oh no,_ thought Bucky, _It was going so well_. Connie stopped laughing immediately as Steve began sucking in huge breaths. He started coughing and both Connie and Bucky leaned toward him, trying to steady him. Connie had a constant stream of words running as she tried to help, asking him if he was okay, trying to get him to breathe. It did nothing. Steve collapsed, and Bucky caught him, gently lowering him down to the bench. Connie held her hand in front of his mouth, feeling his breath. She snapped her fingers in front of his face, but he didn’t flinch. She stood and tried to pick him up.

“He’s fainted,” she explained as she struggled, and Bucky had to hold in a tart “I can see that” as she continued “Does this usually happen?”

“He’s-yeah. Every once in a while,” replied Bucky, standing up, “Sometimes when he hasn’t eaten real food and he has his thing with the breathing…it just happens.”

Connie looked up at Bucky with an intensity he’d only seen in Steve himself. She was going to help Steve no matter what. _He is going to be so embarrassed,_ thought Bucky.

“Let me take him,” Bucky said, “You can come with me.”

“We’re taking him somewhere close,” she said, “Your place is too far away. Follow me.”

Bucky did so. She wasn’t the type to cross once she had an idea in her head. Regular little Good Samaritan, too. It was a tiny bit endearing. The way she defiantly stuck out her chin, deep eyes daring him to cross her. The fact that she still cared even slightly about Steve mean his plan was going better than he ever could have honestly hoped. They were all getting along quite well, and Steve seemed to care about her too – which, frankly, was another miracle.

He could just see it now, Connie in a nice simple wedding dress, standing just below Steve. That height difference was perfect. Maybe he’d get back from the war in one piece and be Steve’s best man.

“Bucky,” Connie said, interrupting his thoughts, “I have a question while he’s, um…” she trailed off and resumed in a whisper, “Why does he want to fight so badly if he knows he’ll never qualify? I mean, I’ve seen him be stubborn, but he’s smart enough to see his own limitations. Is it his family? Did something _happen_?”

Bucky looked down at Steve’s face, bobbing along in his arms as he walked. If he said something, he’d be breaking every unwritten code of honor or friendship he’d ever been a part of, but this girl just _had_ to understand Steve like he did. To love him. He took a deep breath.

“It’s complicated,” Bucky replied, “His dad died in the last war, and he clung to that, I guess. Plus he’s….well, you saw him in the playground. The man can’t stand any sort of injustice. He hates bullies, and, right now, Nazis are the biggest bullies around.”

“He’s got such a good heart,” she said, “Almost make you feel guilty.”

She looked at Steve’s unconscious body and smiled with something Bucky dearly hoped was admiration.

“Is that why you’re fighting?” Connie asked, “Because he can’t?”

Bucky felt like the question knocked the wind out of him. It took him a moment to answer.

“Yeah,” he said softly, “How could I let that chance go by knowing it’s the one thing he wants to be able to do? I wouldn’t be able to face him. Plus,” he added, “The guy inspires a certain sense of courage.”

“Yeah,” she said.

“Truth is, I’m terrified,” he said, before he could stop himself “I know he’d go into a fight without any qualms, but I’m…not like him. I can’t kill someone; I can’t go into a war zone. Especially not knowing if I’m coming back. And I’m all Steve’s got.”

Bucky fought tears, and Connie was quiet for a few seconds; he was grateful she wasn’t looking at his face.

“You’re doing a very noble thing,” she said finally, “You’re giving up everything for your friend. You take care of him; you stand up for him; you do everything you can to keep his pride intact. And you’re fighting a war for him – you have no reason to feel like you owe him any more.”

He had never heard it that way before. He struggled to turn this around to be about Steve again; the conversation had totally gotten away from him.

“I guess I’m just trying to do what he would were he in my place,” he said. He looked at her for a moment, and she seemed like she was about to say something until she was distracted by the house behind him.

“Oh! Here we are,” said Connie. She walked up to the large house and rang the doorbell.”

“Where are we?” said Bucky.

“You’ll see in a moment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT THINGS:
> 
> 1\. I’m not trying to present Clara and Bucky as models of good responses to ableism or pro-eugenics (or any experience someone has in which systemic oppression is wielded to make them feel like less of a human than they are).
> 
> 2\. I’m also not planning on using Steve’s health as purely a plot device to get Bucky and Clara/Connie together.
> 
> 3\. THAT BEING SAID, while I’m trying to get these themes and ideas and relationships from my brain onto paper, if either
> 
> a. There is a disconnect between what I’m thinking or what I’m writing or
> 
> b. What I’m thinking is straight-up wrong as far as disability and stuff goes
> 
> PLEASE DO ME AND ANYONE WHO MIGHT READ THIS A FAVOR AND KINDLY CALL ME OUT.
> 
> There are many of you who know more about this than I do, and I don’t want to get distracted by all of the other parts of writing that I end up butchering something that essential.


	6. Chapter 6

Bucky was surprised to see a Negro man open the door. He had big bushy eyebrows and a kind face that looked at Connie without a trace of worry. 

“Mr. Maitland!” Connie said, “We have a bit of a medical situation. Can you get Mary’s old inhaler and some sort of food with protein in it?” He took a half-second to take in the trio on his doorstep and Bucky felt distinctly uncomfortable. 

“Come in,” Mr. Maitland said, holding the door for them. Connie led Bucky through the house to a small library. “Artie!” cried Mr. Maitland, closing the door, “Miss Oswald needs help!” 

Bucky set Steve down on a couch. There was still plenty of room (Steve didn’t take up much) so Bucky sat down next to him, holding his hand. 

“What’s happened?” asked a young boy as he rushed into the room. 

“I need your help,” said Connie, kneeling down by the couch and tipping Steve’s head back, “Get some cold water.” 

“Yes, Miss Oswald!” he said, and scurried off. Connie gently opened Steve’s mouth. 

“Thank you!” she called after Artie. 

“What do I do?” asked Bucky. 

“Stay with him,” she said firmly, her eyes on Steve, “If he wakes up in a strange house, he’s going to want to know what going on and that he’s safe.” Mr. Maitland, Artie, and a girl who looked to be Artie’s sister fussed about with supplies and food. Connie set to work trying to help Steve, dipping a cloth into a bowl of cold water Artie had brought in and applying it to his forehead. “Prop his legs up, will you?” she said. Bucky grabbed a stack of books from a side table and tucked them under Steve’s feet. He glanced the titles _Principles of Anatomy_ and _A Modern Approach to Nursing._

“Is this how you’ve been ‘training’?” Bucky whispered. 

“You never know when it might come in handy,” she replied. She said it so nonchalantly, as if secretly amassing medical skills from the stray items of a Negro household was the most normal thing in the world. _How did she even meet these people?_

“Whose house is this?” he asked. 

“Right, sorry, Maitlands. I was friends with Mary, their mother - met her at a jazz club; its quite a story - then she died and I stayed with her children as a nanny. I’ve live here for the past few years.” 

“Isn’t it a bit…inappropriate? For you to be living with these kinds of people? Especially if his wife isn’t –” Connie fixed him with a terrifying glare. 

“Whatever you’re about to say, keep in mind that ‘these kind of people’ are the ones taking in your friend,” she said sharply, “and the children I’ve been caring for since they learned their times tables.” Bucky didn’t retaliate. She had a point. Hadn’t he been the one who’d exploded when Patricia started calling Steve names and telling him what he was worth? 

“So with all of this knowledge you’ll be in the army soon?” he said, searching for a better subject. 

“No, as much as I’d like to,” said Connie, “These kids need me. War or no war, I’m staying until that changes.” Bucky added nothing, willing her to keep talking. “Sometimes I think maybe I should go. If we lose the war and they don’t have a country to live in, what does it matter if I took care of them for a while? But I just can’t – I have this feeling that I should stay.” Bucky tried to think of his response, but he was interrupted by Steve, gasping and wheezing. 

*** 

Steve gulped down huge breaths as he grabbed Bucky’s arm. Connie breathed a long sigh, not realized how tense she’d been. She would have felt terribly foolish if, for all of her fussing, Steve had stayed unconscious on the Maitland’s couch. 

“It’s me,” she said calmly, “And Bucky is here.” Steve’s breathing evened out, but his eyes were unfocused. 

“Eat something,” added Bucky, offering him a sandwich. Connie kept her eyes on Steve, waiting a few terrified seconds for him to respond. 

“Wait until I tell everyone your cartoon-character impression nearly put me in a hospital,” said Steve. Bucky and Connie laughed. 

“And then I’ll tell everyone you faked it to be around the sweetest nurse in town,” said Bucky with a wink, “I’ll leave you two to it.” 

He got up and left, leaving them alone in the library. Connie could hear him making conversation with Mr. Maitland. 

“This is about as far as my expertise takes me,” admitted Connie, “Are you feeling alright?” 

“I’m fine; it’s happened before,” Steve replied, sitting up and smoothing his pants. 

“That’s awful.” 

“It’s okay,” he said, biting into Bucky’s proffered sandwich. “It’s about time someone other than Bucky figures out what the hell to do with me.” Connie smiled, but her heart wasn’t in it. “Plus, this repartee is good, considering we’re bound to go steady any day now,” he said, chuckling and then coughing. 

“I’m still sorry though,” she said finally, “I can’t imagine. I guess I just always saw the type of people Patricia talked about as horribly bedridden or something. I never imagined them as real people,” she paused, “Now that I say it out loud, that’s horrible - I really thought that. I’m sorry.” 

“I swear, I really am used to it – doesn’t phase me much anymore” said Steve, “It’s just hard for people to understand when they don’t live through it. There’s always a fight going on between me and this thing,” he said, motioning to his body, “Every second of every day I struggle to breathe, walk, even keep my heart going. I’m so damn busy keeping myself going, it feels like I can never actually do something worthwhile.” 

Connie had the sudden urge to say something, tell him he was wrong and everything was going to be okay. 

“When I told you Patricia was right, I meant it, but, y’know, this is all I have. I’ve seen enough death to know how precious life is, so even if it’s hard, I’m not going to waste it.” Steve stared resolutely at his half-eaten sandwich. She could see even though he was glad to have said it, he was slightly embarrassed to be so exposed. 

“Steve,” she said, holding his hand, “You may not believe it, but you are going to do a lot of good. And someday the world will get to see it, and realize what they were missing” 

*** 

Bucky walked back in. _He's probably going to have a heart attack when he sees Connie holding my hand,_ thought Steve. He was very nearly right. Bucky's eyes popped out of his head, and his smile was bigger and stupider than Steve had ever seen it. Bucky looked at Steve, then Connie, then Steve, then Connie again for a very long time. 

Steve smiled. Even apart from Bucky’s miraculous reigning in of the raging flirt inside of him, Steve had never seen him treat a lady like this before. No occasional glances at her lips or her chest, no attempts to impress or artful displays of a manufactured personality. _A little unnerving, but in a good way._

“It’s probably time we all go home; the Maitlands have been generous enough,” said Connie, letting go of Steve’s hand, “But if you want to try again and Bucky wants to bring a nicer date, there is a swing dance in the square at 8 o'clock tomorrow.” 

“Bucky always has a girl,” cut in Steve, “We’ll be there.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for you patience (and your kudos! Every time I see one, it makes me want to keep up with this). I cannot express how busy life has been OR how good it feels to finally slow down enough to work on fic again. Crossing my fingers for another chapter soon!


End file.
